


Rules

by abluevixen (knightofbows)



Series: | January 2016 Prompt Challenge | [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Copious Music References, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is a Virgin, M/M, Pining Derek, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad At Feelings, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofbows/pseuds/abluevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a heart-breaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules

Stiles found his anthem the summer before senior year, a siren’s song of playing for keeps and fuck all to anyone who tried to stop him. Marina Diamandis gave him a blueprint for getting over Danny, the boy he stupidly, so fucking stupidly, thought he’d be with forever. Danny was, as Barry White had so phrased it, Stiles’ first, Stiles’ last, Stiles’ everything. He’d have defined their year-long romance and their future with Bon Jovi’s words of holding on to what they’ve got, because they had each other and that’s a lot for love. Patty Smyth said sometimes love just ain’t enough, and Danny said it, too, over the phone after his parents found some ill-hidden condom wrappers. Danny quickly became just somebody that Stiles used to know, completely and utterly a la Gotye.

Senior year brought stilted, awkward run-ins with Danny in the locker room, and a heartbreaking walk-in on Danny and Jackson, of all people. Stiles tried to remind himself that Danny’s desire of Jackson didn’t devalue the love he had for Danny, and it didn’t devalue Stiles as a person. It didn’t! And if Stiles went to Jungle and dropped to his knees behind the club for a really hot guy, well, whatever. At least someone thought he was worth their time! Graduation and college gave Stiles hope—he wouldn’t have to see Danny with perfect, douchey Jackson, and he’d escape the shadow of failure and ideas of ‘the one that got away.’

 **Rule #1:** you gotta have fun, but baby when you’re done, you gotta be the first to run.

Stiles never had trouble with putting himself out there. With a failed relationship well behind him and several, several, random guys thinking him perfectly adequate to take home, Stiles’ confidence was bolstered further. So when he noticed Tall, Dark (dressed) and Handsome in his ethics class, Stiles only waited half-way through the semester to proposition him.

“Hey, Hale.”

Hale was stunning. Jaw-line sharp enough to cut, stubble just long enough to leave a burn, eyes prisms that reflected and refracted every fucking color imaginable. His lips were plush distractions from his adorable smile—the kind he wore when Stiles would concede a point in their endless debates. And his face would flush this remarkable pink, just over the shadow of his facial hair, to the tops of his ears and down the back of his neck, if Stiles dropped some sort of innuendo. Stiles couldn’t quite tell if Derek was trying to be stand-offish and aggressive or if he was just socially awkward, but Derek was gorgeous enough and clever enough to pique his interest.

“What, Stilinski?” he grumbled. He tried his best to look bored as he twisted to face Stiles, but the beginnings of that endearing blush was completely at odds with the annoyed pull of his thick, defining eyebrows.

“Wanna, I don’t know, skip the second half of class and head to my dorm?”

Hale’s face shattered open into surprise, and Stiles couldn’t help smirking around the pen he idly chewed. “Excuse me?” Hale demanded. He tried to look offended, he really did, but the flash of initial intrigue didn’t escape Stiles.

_Ah._

And it made sense, to a certain degree, given Hale’s carefully constructed image. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he wasn’t out. Maybe he was questioning, but hadn’t found an opportunity to figure out his sexuality. Regardless, it was obvious he’d never been with a dude.

“I want. To suck. Your cock,” Stiles drawled, tilting his head and shamelessly ogling the bulge in Hale’s jeans. “You know, if that’s amenable to you.” When he dragged his eyes back up to Hale’s face, the pink he expected was closer to red, and the confidence he hoped to find in response to his bold offer was, in fact, uncertainty.

“Fine.” Hale actually managed to sound inconvenienced, but he nearly dropped his books in his haste to shove them into his backpack.

Stiles chuckled, but grabbed his belongings and followed Hale out of the classroom. In the hall, he took point, and led the way across campus to his dorm. “My roommate’s staying with his girlfriend, so no worries, alright?” He opened the door and tossed his bag beside his desk. And as soon as the door clicked shut behind Hale, Stiles grabbed him by his leather jacket and tossed him onto his bed. “This okay, Hale?” he asked. He ran his hands down his thighs as he slid to his knees, mouthing at the fly and breathing hot through the denim.

“Y-yeah, it’s fine,” Hale breathed. Fuck, Stiles hardly even _touched_ him and he sounded _gone_. This would be quick and gloriously satisfying, Stiles knew. “Just don’t call me that.”

“Call you what?” Stiles asked, plucking open his belt.

“Hale,” he said. “Call me Derek.”

“And you can call me Stiles,” Stiles said.

Derek lifted his hips for Stiles to shimmy down his boxers and jeans to his knees.

Stiles reached beneath his bed and grabbed a condom from the small container he kept filled with them. “Ever been with a guy before, Derek?” he asked. He licked his hand and started stroking his cock, amazed and so fucking turned on by how quickly Derek reacted to him. Zero to sixty in record time.

“Will you stop if I say no?” Derek asked. He bit his lip and kept his gaze fixed on the water-stained ceiling, but his thighs trembled, and his dick throbbed.

Stiles pouted, and kissed the inside of his knee. “No, of course not, dude,” he said softly, giving his cock a squeeze. “Just tell me if I do something you don’t like, okay? Or if I do something you like and you want more of it. Promise me, okay?” He tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth and seamlessly slid it on with a smooth stroke.

Derek’s abs flexed as he bent to meet Stiles’ gaze, his bright eyes nearly black as he looked back and forth between Stiles and the condom. “You’re…strangely accommodating for randomly wanting to blow me.”

“I wanna suck your dick, Derek, not traumatize you or get you sick,” Stiles laughed. He straightened and pressed a hand lightly on Derek’s chest. “Now lay back and let me work my magic, alright? I’ll have you seeing _stars_.”

 **Rule #2:** don’t get attached to somebody you could lose.

Derek wasn’t the only person Stiles offered to suck or fuck, and he certainly wasn’t the only one who accepted; but Derek was one of his favorites.

Derek _hadn’t_ been with any guys before Stiles, and maybe hadn’t been with anyone before, though Stiles never asked. He just relished every one of Derek’s gasps and moans—each one made with a hint of surprise, as if Derek couldn’t fathom something feeling so good—and strove to pull more from his bitten lips. And when Derek would pull Stiles up into a wild, desperate kiss, Stiles chuckled into it, and kissed Derek just as desperately.

Given enough encounters, enough skipped classes, enough discrete nods and hurried glances down hallways, Derek started talking. He didn’t talk much, but he communicated pertinent information to Stiles in the sack, and openly panted his praises. So when he started asking _for_ things and asking _about_ things, well, Stiles was colored impressed…and excited. They used hands and mouths a little more brazenly, treading into territory Stiles knew well, but Derek didn’t, and when Derek finally wanted to fuck—because Stiles was totally cool with hand-jobs and blow-jobs, and rim-jobs and really nothing that fun should ever be called a _job_ —Stiles let him take the lead.

Stiles rode Derek first, slow and sinful and milking every moment he could with this painfully beautiful man beneath him and in him. When Derek wanted more control, Stiles leaned into how Derek rolled them over and wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist.

A few weeks later, Derek asked Stiles to fuck him. So Stiles did; took his time prepping him, a generous use of lube, talked him through it, reminded him to breathe, and asked him how he felt. Even after Derek was begging for Stiles’ cock, Stiles waited a few moments more, stretched him with his slick fingers just a little longer before finally giving him what he demanded.

“Why are you doing all this?” Derek asked in the aftermath, somewhere between Stiles throwing away the condom and looking for his missing underwear.

“Doing all of what?”

“…this,” Derek said, gesturing between them. “All of this. You’re…really good to me. Are you…?”

“Am I what?” Stiles prompted playfully. He didn’t want to fill in the blanks—they rarely lingered long in each other’s company once they were finished, but he was interested in what Derek had to say.

“Are you always such a generous lover?”

“Wow, way to be formal, _Hale_ ,” Stiles teased. He scoffed and pulled up his pants. “And yes, I’d like to think I’m a _generous lover_ , as you put it. Like I said in the beginning, I’m not out to traumatize you or get you sick. Sex is supposed to fun, ya know? So I try to make sure my partners have fun.”

Derek frowned. “Do you have something I should be worried about?”

Laughing, Stiles said, “No way. I get tested every three months, but I’m hardly monogamous.” Then he hesitated, turning to Derek with a shirt in his hands. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“No,” Derek said quickly, though he was a horrible liar. “Not at all. Just curious.”

How much he wanted Derek, and how often he took him to bed, was a red flag for Stiles. He wasn’t in love with Derek—no, Stiles didn’t know if he was capable of it again just yet—but he enjoyed Derek. He enjoyed Derek’s wit and intelligence in class and enjoyed how genuine and honest Derek was in bed. Derek was quickly becoming a habit, a routine, and Stiles couldn’t allow him or anyone he fucked to become such an integral part of his life. Derek was amazing and Stiles wasn’t looking for a relationship. If Derek ever wanted something more, he’d leave to find it elsewhere—and when that inevitably happened, Stiles couldn’t be affected.

So one day when Derek sent him a text in the middle of class that read, “Wanna skip second half?” and turned to arch an eyebrow at him in question, Stiles…well, Stiles shook his head and replied, “Nah.” He ignored Derek for the rest of the lecture, and dashed from the room as soon as the professor dismissed class.

 **Rule #3:** wear your heart on your cheek, but never on your sleeve unless you want to taste defeat.

Stiles was affectionate with Derek. He liked him—actually, genuinely liked him—and the sex was incredible, but he paced himself anyway. They were friends, sort of; and they had benefits for sure. It was enough.

Though Stiles lengthened the time between their liaisons, Derek turned around and lengthened the liaison itself. Touching the same body over and over brought familiarity and knowledge, and just as Derek learned how he loved to be taken apart at Stiles’ hand, he also learned to take Stiles apart with his own.

He grew bolder, rougher, marking Stiles with biting kisses and bruising grips and beard burn. A new fire burned in his eyes, one that looked distinctly like determination, when he pinned Stiles to the mattress of the tiny dorm room. He pulled an orgasm from Stiles using his mouth and his fingers, on his dick and in his ass, slow and thorough and frazzling every nerve in Stiles’ body. Then, once Stiles was pliant and cum-drunk, Derek slid between his knees, hooked Stiles’ legs around his waist, and fucked another one out of him buried deep inside him. By the time Derek was through with him, Stiles’ voice was hoarse like strep, and he was too exhausted to dispute how he was man-handled into spooning.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Derek whispered into his shoulder.

Instead of answering, Stiles sighed like he was falling asleep and gripped the pillow instead of Derek’s hand.

 **Rule #4:** gotta be looking pure; kiss him goodbye at the door and leave him wanting more.

“Stiles,” Isaac pouted. “Come back to bed. They’ll leave eventually.”

“This’ll only take a second, dude. Chill,” Stiles chided.

He opened the door to his dorm, blocking the view inside with a well-angled lean of his hips, and found Derek standing on the other side. He stiffened for a split second before forcing a casual smirk on his face. Despite how he felt the rising marks of Isaac’s enthusiastic mouth, he still crossed his arms over his bare chest and licked his lips, letting his eyes roam Derek’s body. Hardly any of it was left to the imagination with his tight Henley and snug jeans, and Stiles enjoyed the view. “Hey, Derek. What’s up?”

“You weren’t in class today,” Derek explained. He wore his adorable blush over his worried expression, his eyebrows pinched imploringly. He tried not to stare at Stiles’ disheveled hair, his marked-up torso, the open fly of his pants, but how quickly he did anyway, and the resulting disappointment, were nearly palpable. “You’ve never missed class. I figured I’d—”

“Stiles…!”

“Just a second!” Stiles snarled over his shoulder. Then he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. “Jesus, he is so fucking impatient,” he muttered. Derek radiated discomfort, but Stiles ignored it. “Anyway, what were you saying?”

“You missed class,” Derek said, a sting of venom in his voice. “I thought I’d check up on you, but I see you’re fine.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, keeping the bitterness from his smile. “I’m totally good. Thanks for stopping by. That’s really nice of you.”

Derek sighed, his anger evaporating like flash steam and settling into a hurt that was closer to how he truly felt. “Stiles, what…? Why are you…? Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin, okay?”

Stiles pursed his lips in faux confusion. “Clearly you’re confused, but I don’t know what there is to be confused about.”

“You weren’t in class—”

“Yeah, because I got caught up with something else,” he interrupted, pointing to the closed door behind him with a careless thumb. “As you can see. So…what? Was there an assignment not on the syllabus or something?”

“What about us?” Derek breathed.

“What _about_ us?” Stiles repeated.

Derek blinked, flabbergasted. “…I just, I thought…”

Stiles shook his head. “You knew I was seeing other people. I’ve _been_ seeing other people, Derek. You knew that. I told you that.”

“Yeah, I know, but—”

“ _What,_ Derek?”

Derek sighed, deep and defeated—heartbroken. Stiles wore a similar expression when Danny broke up with him back in high school. “Nothing.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing, and dropped his gaze to his shoes. “Nothing,” he repeated. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll, um, see you next class, alright?”

Before Stiles could agree, or disagree, or ask him to wait, or maybe admit how he was maybe sort of falling for him too, Derek turned and disappeared down the nearest corridor.

So Stiles was a heartbreaker. He just didn’t realize he’d break his own, too.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr: [foxtricks](http://foxtricks.tumblr.com/)


End file.
